A Cup of Bliss or Poison?
by N.Mirz
Summary: Our favorite couple make a mistake by a tender night and suffer their punishent but just as things start to go well again Edward finds out that Bertha had attacked a curious Jane and now Jane knows about her but not enough to refuse Mr.Rochsters proposa
1. A guilty dream

Neither of these lovely characters belong t me

**Neither of these lovely characters belong t me. But the scene is entirely of my own imagination. Please read it to the end! It's not too long, unless you would want more! **

**A Cup of Bliss or Poison?**

It was such a warm night. The sky was so clear and I had resolved that my mind should be so as well, if just for one night. Let the morning bring what it may. I wanted to be happy that night. He had been so kind to me that evening, kinder than usual; and I felt that his eyes danced with a certain glow at their depths. This undoubtedly meant that his marriage to Miss Ingram was approaching and perhaps his growing kindness to me meant that his happiness, which on this point meant all the desperation in the world for me, was near.

I crawled into my blankets, already feeling the tears gathering, filling my eyes. I knew that with a single blink, these rivers of misery will flow over the white hill and slip towards the valley. I tried to push them back but felt that they were too much to deny.

I let them flee perhaps they would ease the pain inside my heart. If only the lump in my throat would cease to be! I heard a sob, an unintentional one, escape my quivering lips. "You are to be content, Jane. Crying wont do anything." I murmured to myself. Oh I wished my heart could be as numb as Mrs. Reed thought it was.

I began thinking about her. Although they were not pleasant thoughts, they distracted me from Mr. Rochester and his bride-to-be. Even when dying, she refused to love me. I loved intensely, but my love was never to be returned. I forgave easily, but attracted no gratitude, no affection. All those people who _might_ have loved me were gone. Am I truly so worthless of my fellow-creatures love? Oh God, what have I done to be undeserving of what I give so graciously?

I did not know when exactly I fell sleep, but the next picture I remember was a vivid dream. Unlike all my recent dreams this was very pleasant, very welcome. I was sitting in a drawing room, a very dark and gloomy place. I saw a candle. I ran to grab it as if it only would lighten the surroundings if it was within my reach. But as I ventured near it, it flew away as by an invisible hand. "Wait" it stopped. I again attempted to draw nearer but again it crept further. "Don't go away" I said

"I'm not going. I'm guiding you to the day." said a warm voice.

"Who are you?" I said, now fully trusting it.

"Your heart"

As it said that everything became as bright as day and the candle was lost through the sun rays. I saw I was at Thornfields gate. I was back from a long journey. But I knew not to where. Somehow I found myself in someone's arms. It was Mr. Rochester.

"Edward!" I then gasped at myself calling him by his christen name.

"Oh my daring Jane, I love you."

I woke up. Oh God! Why is my mind playing these sad games with me? Is my suffering not enough? Why should I endure even the disappointment of waking after such delusional dreams? Ere long I had been entertaining these painful thoughts I found myself charmed by slumber again. Denying the dream, this time I had a nightmare.

I was running from Mrs. Reed, still following the candle. Only this time Helen Burns was holding it for me. Her voice was acute and shaky, not like the previous, bass, warm voice. She compelled me to hurry which I did with anxiousness though I knew not why. We reached at a church yard. There Helen fell to her knees and joined her hands while she kneeled beside her own grave. I seeing her grave and then looking at her started to scream.

As if not knowing that I was still there she opened her shut eyes and looked at me in surprise ordering me to go inside the church. I looked towards the doors and saw a woman alone. She began to laugh. Such laughs that I had heard escape Grace Poole.

But it wasn't her, it was Blanche. Then she disappeared inside the church. In a glimpse, I thought I saw a bloody knife held in her hands.

I went inside the church, my heart beating fast inside my breast. I saw him there, standing beside her to be wed. He saw the knife too; only to him it was disguised as roses. I screamed, for the second time,

"Edward no, don't. It will ruin you. Edward…" I screamed harder. "Don't, no" Catching myself calling him by his christen name again, I thought perhaps that was why he didn't hear me so I proceeded, "Mr. Rochester, no, don't please, please!" I began calling his name again and again in concern and most of all in desperation. But someone was pulling me away, slightly shaking me.

"Jane! Jane dear, wake. Wake up."

"No, Don't" I murmured, as slowly it became clear where I was and what had happened. I couldn't see who was shaking me but could easily distinguish his voice.

"Sir!"

"Do you feel better?" He whispered as he gave me some water.

"Yes, sir."

"Would you care to tell me what made you call me so desperately in your dream?" I could sense the smile in his sentence.

"I… I… don't…" impossible to tell him!

"What wrong was I doing that you so urgently needed to stop me?"

I couldn't possibly tell him that. But suddenly it became so strange, he being here in my bedroom. This thought and its impropriety led to another thought.

"I'm sorry to have woken you. I hope I haven't disturbed others, have I?"

"No my darl…, Umm, no, no you haven't. The servants sleep far off you see and dame Fairfax is too old and a little deaf to have heard it." His voice was softer than ever. His face was so close to mine as he replaced me on my bed. Oh how I wished to be in his embrace!

"No Jane," he said again "you can never be the cause of discomfort to any person."

I could feel his warm breath upon my face. I thought I'm still dreaming. This wasn't happening. No, I could not be so blessed so let me taste this cup of bliss at least in my dreams, where I may be free.

"Goodnight" he said.

I felt his lips brush on my forehead. A feeling of sensation, of joy beyond belief was aroused in my fast-beating heart. It was too sweet a dream and my excitement took the reins from sense and judgment and with a spiteful gesture bestowed it on the eager hands of love and feeling. While I had the chance, while I still felt the propinquity of his face to mine, my crazy heart decided to show him that it was not numb, that it was full, full with an intense love for him. If this was my dream then I could taste it. I pressed my lips against his cheek.

Suddenly I felt as if I had again woken from a dream but this time fear filled me instead of despair. Oh what had I done? He had backed away and gasped as he felt the touch of my cold lips. "Jane!" he said in surprise and my eyes were suddenly filled with fresh, hot tears at my own insanity.

"Oh sir, I'm so sorry! I promise it will never…"

He put a finger on my lips by means of silencing me. "Jane, never say you are sorry!"

My eyes now adjusted to the darkness saw a face filled with… I was not sure with what. It was impossible to be passion, more so love. He seemed hesitant for a minute, and then approached my face again, pressing his lips hard against mine. I was reluctant at first, a result of bewilderment and disbelief but after sometime, love gave way and I kissed him back, passionately, and afterwards to my regret, shamelessly, putting my hands around his neck.

We were this way for sometime. I was so lost in him that forgot about the time flying away. It was sometime after I, exhausted with the excitement, broke away. He smiled but I cried silently, cursing myself for having been weak to temptation.

He put a hand on my cheek, much as I longed for his touch, I shrugged it off but it was too late he felt my tears.

"Jane, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I never wanted to…"

"Oh please, just go away." I said now sobbing.

Without another word but a sight he left, leaving me alone in the darkness of my own guilt.

**If you liked it please review and tell me if you're interested to read more. I'm not quite sure of myself!**


	2. The Morning

**The Morning**

The next morning is a blur. I remember the sudden embarrassment that filled my whole existence when I remembered the events of last night. I could remember my dreams, the fright, the excitement. I felt the pain, physical pain, in my heart. It was as if I had anticipated something to happen that morning and it had not. It was a strange, unfamiliar longing that aroused from the pit of my stomach! The grief of my last dream was still weighting upon me. Then I felt that my face was hot and sweaty, and in the mirror, as red as a rose.

After Mr. Rochester left my room last night, I lapsed to a fit of hysteric tears. I was shaking uncontrollably, whether from fear, shame or guilt, I was not sure. One thing that I was sure of was the impossibility to show my face to the engaged man who had visited my dreams, again. How could I go back to my daily jobs now, without turning crimson each two minutes that I remembered the soft brush of his lips on my forehead, his passionate tune and face? How could I pass him in the Hall with indifference?

I wondered if he was angry, if he would send me away. I had hardly ever seen him really angry. But he could not blame me alone…that was not right! Oh, Wake up Jane Eyre, what have you seen right in this world? What had been just? A childhood full of lapsed misery? A youth full of injustice? He could easily dismiss you without giving a thought to what would become of you. But, no… he was a good master, so Mrs. Fairfax always said.

"Never say you are sorry, Jane" his words echoed in my ear. He had come to save me from my own dreams, he had cared! Perhaps he…

Common sense woke once again to guide my lost heart. The heart that no longer belonged to me, but to my master. 'He is getting married.' Came down on my head like a heavy piece of metal. You can not deny that, he doesn't love you. What do you have that should be of any interest to him? 'He was just being a kind friend to you and you might have lost that friend with your shameful act last night.'

I washed the tears from my face and dressed. I knew what I had to do and _would_ not hesitate in doing it. My heart cried still, but my eyes were dry. How could I still feel the pain? I had no heart to feel since I gave mine to him and couldn't expect his in return! And so I should act, since I was so, heartless.

Maybe my cruel aunt was right in her actions after all. Maybe I was not really worthy of anyone's true love. If I was then, why no one gave me any real affection? But I'm wrong. I have Mrs. Fairfax's affection and little Adele's as well, and that should suffice for me, no doubt.

"I can still advertise again." I said aloud. And then a thought flashed in my mind. 'Why, I don't need to advertise at all. All I need to do is to write to my uncle and inform him that I'm still living.' This gave me new hope and with that I gathered courage to quit my room and go to Adele in the school room.

To my relief, I didn't encounter Mr. Rochester in my way to the school room although I had an uncomfortable feeling that someone was watching me, or to be more precise, that _he _was watching me. I was not surprised when I entered the school room to find it empty. I had no wish to eat and so ha skipped the breakfast, but I couldn't expect Adele to study without having had hers.

I sat for almost a quarter of an hour, reading some Arithmetic exercises and trying to decide which would be suitable for Adele to solve. But my restless mind wandered to him, his face, his voice, the fire in his eyes. Fire! I remembered the night that I saved him from burning and smiled at the recollection.

"Ah, bonjour mademoiselle! Vous êtes ici si premier!" came the lively childish tones.

"Yes Adele. And we have a lot to do today." I answered.

"Oh non! Vous vous avez promis que me donnerait un après-midi libre aujourd'hui de sorte que j'aie pu aller à Millcote avec Sophie."

"In English, please Adele. Besides I said conditionally. Not unless you had done all your sums faultlessly. They were not so!"

She started groaning and yawning during the lesson until I warned her that she will be doing sums until late in the evening if she didn't pay attention. Poor girl! I didn't want to hurt her but I was not in a mood to humor her. After that, fearing more work, she promised to be 'a good girl' and she was but it was hard for _me_ to teach that day. After I had explained the lesson to her, I tried to write a letter to my uncle while she practiced the exercises I had given her. However, after an hour had passed, I found myself gazing out of the window, lost in thought, with a blank page except for two words: 'Dear Uncle', on my lap.

"Mademoiselle, are you alright? I've been calling you these past minutes."

"I'm sorry Adele. What is it?"

"I've finished the sums." She said, though looking disappointed, I supposed, because she knew she could have had the chance to escape studies for the rest of the day. Seeing that I couldn't teach her either, with my present state of mind, I told her,

"Then you may go."

"Oh vraiment ? Merci, Merci, Mademoiselle Eyre!"

She jumped as she kissed my cheek and ran out of the room. As soon as I thought I was alone in the room, I let my tears to win the battle I had had with them during the whole morning.

I think, I had gazed out of the window again and cried my heart out for some time ere I realized that Adele hadn't closed the door, and the servants or Mrs. Fairfax could hear my sobs if they passed the room.

Muttering to myself about 'the careless girl', I turned to close it. Reader, I received the shock of my life when I perceived the figure standing at the door leaning on the wall with crossed arms, looking at me.

"Don't blame Adele. I told her to let the door open." He said.

I was petrified. I couldn't move, couldn't talk, could hardly even breath. It was Mr. Rochester. What should I tell him? I was even more discouraged when he stood there without moving or saying another word. 'I HAVE to be strong' I told myself, urging myself to appear calm. At last I managed to say

"Good morning, sir" in a small voice. He didn't answer. My tears began to gather again. I struggled to keep them but in vain. Seeing my struggle, he seemed to be moved. He approached me, but I, afraid of myself, turned to the window again. I felt his strong hand on my shoulder. But I couldn't face him then, so I just stood there, with my back towards him, hastily wiping away tears.

"Jane" his voice was still warm and kind. But I couldn't bear it. His kindness tempted me and I loathed myself inwardly for feeling thus. If he didn't remove his hand I might have turned and lost myself to him against my reason and common sense. For the fear of the thought, I reluctantly shrugged his hand off. It was not true that I didn't have a heart! I did, only instead of beating in my breast, it was standing behind me, that man whom I loved most dearly, who was to be lost to me forever. For some reason, he took some steps backwards and away from me. I could feel a strange chill, unusual in summer, as he went away.

"Miss Eyre, I'm sorry that I had been spying on you. I hope you would forgive me. Actually I came here for the sole purpose of offering my apologies for the incident of last night." His voice was cold, colder than it was on our first encounter in Hay Lane. He was as formal as if I was that stranger bird again who had lost it's way and wandered to his house.

He waited for my reply but I was at a loss of both words and what I should say. I turned at last, to find a face of ice looking down at me with a cool glance. I just nodded.

"Should I take it that I'm forgiven?" he said harshly.

"Yes, sir." I mumbled. He turned to leave.

"Sir?" I called, still in too low a voice to be heard easily but he turned. Oh God, how I wished to be in his arms again!

"It was as much my fault as it was yours. I'm sorry!" I said, to my surprise with a much steadier voice. He smiled but it was one of those cold smiles he used to give his future wife. We stared at each other for another minute; he then nodded and left me.

**The next chapter will be Edward's POV. Thanks for the reviews.**


	3. Another Mistake

**To get on the events I want I have to go on in Edward's point of view. I hope you like it.**

Another Mistake!

I left her there, with the familiar agony of despair in my heart and the well known tormented beats that belonged to her and when thus separated filled me with pain. She can never know what I feel. She was ever the little bird that claimed freedom! And now, when I thought I have her heart, I lost her again!

I tore myself from happiness with my own hands. I took away her innocence, broke her self respect and pride. She will never forgive me or if her gracious heart found a place for forgiveness, I doubt it will ever find one for love. But I can't let her go. She was my reason for living, if she leaves, then what do I have to live for? Formerly I lived with the slightest hope of finding the one who was to change my doom, now I have found her, if she was to leave me I would be alive but condemned never to taste the sweetness of life.

I heard her sobs as I started to walk away from the closed door. No, I would not lose her, even if it means to extinguish the passion ever burning, to ignore the love ever claiming, for her touch, her love. If I have to be cold and formal, tormenting myself as well as her, I will not let her leave Thornfield. My mind is resolved. When she was sure that Thornfield is safe again, when she cherished her self-esteem again, perhaps then I could venture to approach her again.

Oh, how long the beautiful summer days seemed without her to talk to, how dreary and cold the atmosphere seemed. I didn't see her during the day, she didn't leave the school room until dinner and even then she didn't leave that room but instead rang for Leah to bring up her dinner. I knew she avoided me, although painful, I knew that was for the best.

Those were one of the worst days of my life. When I watched her pass through the Hall and never could speak to her. When all I could say to her was a cold good morning and good evening, and all she ever addressed to me was yes sir, no sir. How could she torture me like that?

I couldn't sleep that night. To be honest, slumber was seldom a guest in my room. And whenever it as, his companions were unwelcome nightmares. I sat on my bed, staring into the air, trying not to think of what she had told me on that dreadful day, almost a fortnight ago, how she had acted. When she had found me in the school room, she was as pale as she had never been before. I didn't know if she was angry or if she was afraid.

I was not sure how to act but it seemed as if she had decided for me. She addressed me as she usually did, but this time there was no youthful, bright girl with blushing cheeks but a stiff, trembling girl as white as snow. I was not what I had hoped I am to her.

I got up and opened the drawer of my toilet table. There stood a little ornamented box with golden borders. Inside it was a tiny ring fit for the small fingers of a fairy. I sighted as I looked at the broad shiny diamond. How I longed to put that ring on Jane's finger.

Banishing the idea, I went back to bed. It was then when I heard some footsteps across the corridor. Oh God don't let this be Bertha again!

I quietly opened the door, praying that no one else has heard her footsteps. But that would have been impossible. This cunning demon of mine was walking so lightly that I wouldn't have heard it either if it was not for my sleeplessness. I followed the light slowly across the gallery and to the library.

There she put the candle on a table near a book case and started searching there for something. I was quite surprised at that. What could she want? The house was all darkness and I could hardly distinguish her form from the shadows. I went nearer and was about to seize her arms when just a few feet away from her, I gasped. This was not Bertha, but my little Jane.

Jane turned suddenly at the sound of my gasp. I managed to ignore the fast beating of my heart and to appear calm and in control. She seemed somewhat embarrassed.

"Miss Eyre, may I ask what you are doing here at this hour?"

"Sir! I was just…just…"

"Just what?"

"Just trying to find the book I had left here earlier." She said at last

"But now? It's passed midnight. Shouldn't you be sleep?"

"I could not, sir"

'Neither could I' I thought. There was a silence. I noticed the book in her hand.

"May I see the book?" I asked. I saw her blush in the candle light. She handed me the book. It was Eliza Haywood's _Love in Excess. _Quite an old book and a very strange choice for my little Jane.I gave the book back. She was even more embarrassed.

"Well, good night Miss Eyre." I said and forced myself to walk towards the door. I was gone half the way when I heard her call me with her sweet voice.

"Sir?"

"Yes?" she came nearer.

"I wanted to know if I am…. if you are….I mean…" Her timid face was at that moment the most beautiful that I had ever seen. I could hardly bear to see it and yet be cold and distant.

"What do you mean, Jane?"

"I mean…" she took a deep breath to steady herself. " You once told me that I am your friend. Am I still your friend?"

"Of course you are, Jane" I smiled. Oh, my darling hated formality as much as I did.

"Then…Then, would you do me a favor… as a friend?" What could she want? Of course I would grant her any thing she wished for, anything but resignation or a new position. I knew she wouldn't ever ask me the favors celiene or my other mistresses would have asked me so what else would she ask after what had happened? The idea froze the blood in my veins.

"What favor, Miss Eyre?"

"If you please, don't address me as Miss Eyre."

"Alright, but what was the favor you wished to ask of me?" I said cold, still annoyed and hardly noticing what she had just said.

"Only that, sir." She said sounding disappointed. Now it became clear. I could have hugged her there and then but gathering myself I smiled and said,

"It's granted then, my little Jane." I bit my tongue as soon as the sentence was out of my mouth but what was the use she had heard it. Another mistake!

"Am I, sir?" She said gravely. I thought I could see the tears gathering in her eyes again. I was shaken.

"Are you what?"

"_Your_ little Jane?"

"Well, I had even said it before. You will always be min…my… good little friend. Will you not?" oh if only she knew what a lie this was!

"Ah, yes, sir" she sighed. "Well, Good night, sir"

"Good night, Jane."

She then left the library as silently as she had entered it. I followed her with my eyes until she disappeared behind a corner. As I prepared to grope my way back through the darkness, I realized she had left the book on the table. I left as well.

As I sat on my bed again, I mused over what had passed. She wanted me to be as I was before. Perhaps I could hope, after all, for happiness to return. That was the first night in two weeks that I slept without the disturbance of nightmares but with blissful dreams of a life I desired. '_My_ little Jane, good night.'


	4. A Change of Scenes

Some two weeks had passed since that fateful night in the library

**A Change of Scenes**

Some two weeks had passed since that fateful night in the library. Somehow I thought I could have my Jane back and I did but only for a few days. I didn't know why but her voice held more respect than ever when she addressed me, her eyes glistered in a way I had never seen them do. Oh God how my heart ached for her as I watched her stroll through the grounds, wandering here and there like some spirit. She was ever deep in thought and one couldn't help wondering what was going on in her head.

I took courage again and resumed my habit of calling her in the evenings. It was a blessing just to look into her deep innocent eyes. At times I cursed myself for feeling so deep for a girl as pure as her. If she was not so unaware of all these feelings and passions that I felt then maybe I wouldn't feel as guilty, sullying her virtuousness, as I did.

It was a fine afternoon but I was quite in a mood. I had kept my visits to the third storey as rare as possible but couldn't avoid this one. Grace happened to tell me this morning that Bertha was actually very sick. She had had her suspicions but didn't think it was serious and neglected telling me until now.

It was thoughtful of her not wanting to disturb me by reminding me of her but it could be something of importance. Oh God why should I be cursed with such a burden?

I ascended the stairs, thinking if I should send for Carter this evening. I thought I could here Jane's voice from above but that was impossible. Was I too deep in love to imagine her voice?

Shaking my head I reached for the door knob…. And there she was sitting by the bed. I gasped! Grace seemed uneasy but Jane was composed and her eyes slightly betrayed only concern. And there was Bertha on the bed looking absolutely ill, not that I cared but it _was_ _my responsibility_ and I would do all I could for her.

Looking at Jane again all thoughts of Bertha were cleared from my mind. I felt a dizziness mixed with anger and passion rise within me. Jane was lost to me forever! The question was how much did she know?

There was silence for sometime. I looked at Grace questioningly seeing that she wouldn't answer my gaze I spoke first.

"Mrs. Poole would you care to explain?" I demanded but Jane was the one who answered.

"Sir, I'm the one to blame. You see, I…"

"Miss Eyre would you give us a moment alone, please?" I interrupted her perhaps rather harshly but I didn't want her there in that den. My eyes pleaded for understanding as I said that but I could not tell her anything in front of Grace.

"Of course, sir" and with that she stepped out of the room.

"Now," I tuned to grace

"Sir, I…I can explain. It was when Miss Mason's illness started. I had gone downstairs to bring her dinner and…when I came here I found Miss Mason on top of Miss Eyre nearly Strangling her to death. Well you see, she had caught her off guard when Miss Eyre had entered the room and apparently knocked her out, that's why she had made no sounds or shouted for help."

"Why was I never told of this?"

"Sir, you were away on business on that day and Miss Eyre asked me afterwards not to mention it to you."

"Who else knew of it?" it was really hard to keep myself composed. I shuddered at the idea of what might have happened. Picturing what happened to Mason, happening to my darling. I felt a sudden wave of nausea. Pushing the thought back I tried to listen to Grace as she said,

"No one else knows, sir. After I had tied Miss Mason, Miss Eyre recovered in this same room and…well she asked me some questions but I…"

"How much have you told her?" I interrupted again. The worst part over, now I had to face the truth. For some reason Grace turned red.

"Sir, she thinks that Mrs. Rochester is Mr. Rowland's mad wife and that you are taking care of her for your deceased brother's sake."

I couldn't help smiling but did my best not to and I think I succeeded for Grace still seemed intimidated.

"Very well, now to the matter at hand, how has she been?"

"She is very ill, sir. I…I think …If I may say so…. You would call the physician?"

"Of course, I'll send for him this evening" and with a last look at Bertha who had been sleeping, I quitted the room.

Nothing went the way I wanted but having heard Grace's explanation, no wonder why Jane's tune held more respect. She, probably, saw me now as some sort of a kind philanthropist. The idea hardly pleased me; on the contrary it rather vexed me that she should have a completely wrong vision of me.

I knew I couldn't stand to see her right now so I decided to take Mesrour for riding and would go after Carter myself. Perhaps some fresh air could set me right.

The sun was setting, it's red rays spread throughout the sky. A warm summer breeze whispered in my ears as I ran the horse through Hay Lane. I glanced at the oak to the side, remembering my first encounter with Jane; I smiled at what could have been, were I a free man.

Having had informed Carter, I rode back to Thornfield as the sky began to darken. Jane must have finished with Adele now but I was not sure if I should send for her now or if it would be better to wait for the morrow.

I lingered a little in the fields near by. I could feel my heart swelling. How close I had held her that night. How willingly she had pressed her lips to mine. How every cell in my body ached for her presence, to touch her, to feel her loving gaze!

I sighed, knowing that I could not have her. It was hard, so I had predicted but it was even harder in these circumstances. I returned to the Hall with even a darker mood than before.

Passing the gates, I handed Mesrour to John who greeted me. Looking up I saw the candles lit in the third Story. Carter must have arrived. I went upstairs passing Jane's room, I stopped for a minute and listened it was all very quiet but somehow I knew she was not sleep yet. For a minute I reached for the door, tempted with my desires for her but instead I snatched my hand back and continued upstairs.

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I'm so very sorry for the delay in updating. I'm rather a lazy writer. I hope you liked this chapter. I would be glad for any comments or advises. I also wanted to thank call2wrshp, Di12381, Karmencorn, bookworm33, Captain Wierdo and ChapeauVert for their kind comments.


	5. A Troubled Mind

A Troubled Mind

As I entered the room, I heard Bertha scream my name along with some unintelligible words. Grace Poole was holding her down on the bed but she kept struggling, trying her best to get rid of grace and launch herself at Carter. He meanwhile feeling the danger was doing his work some feet away from the bed. On seeing me, he looked up and smiled. I was in no mood for returning the gesture.

"Good evening, sir"

"Good evening, Carter. Well?"

"There are symptoms of pneumonia." He replied abruptly.

"Can you do anything for her?" I asked not sure what I hoped for. I did not wish her ill but she was a heavy burden to carry.

"Pneumonia can result from a variety of causes, including infection with bacteria, viruses, fungi, or parasites, and chemical or physical injury to the lungs. However this case is somewhat idiopathic. I'm sorry but she is chronically and terminally ill. I don't think I could do much for her."

I did not know if I should be happy or disappointed. I stared at her for a long time, but it could have hardly been some two or three minutes. I turned to Carter.

"Do you mean that she would …die?" I asked my voice betraying no emotion. In fact I did not feel anything.

"It would be a matter of time, sir."

"And that would be how long?"

"Sir, would you please…?" I turned to see Grace almost on the floor, still struggling with her charge, who was quite stronger than herself. I took hold of Bertha's shoulders, trying to put her back on the bed while she tore at my hair and tried to bite my hands. Mastering her arms I asked Carter to use some chloroform to put her to sleep for the time.

Escorting Carter out of the house, I went back to that abhorred prison. Dismissing Grace for supper, I sat there and watched my _wife _for some time. Deep in thought, I found that Jane was still haunting my mind. Looking at Bertha and imagining my Jane I was wondering how different two women could possibly be when I heard Grace enter the room.

I decided to skip supper and go to bed early. I couldn't sleep though. I couldn't let her die so easily and yet what could I do? I felt guilty but how could I help not feeling anything? I was not spiteful but I couldn't have anymore feeling towards her as a stranger did.

But I would not let her life slip away if I could prevent it. I had no right to neglect her to die. Bitter thoughts filled my mind the moment I put my head on the pillow, shooing away the slumber I craved.

After thinking for a while I found that tonight was bound to be as sleepless as most others were; no matter how tired my body was my mind wouldn't succumb to rest! At last surrendering to restlessness I dressed and started pacing the room. I couldn't run away from my troubled mind.

I remembered those carefree days of youth when I could retreat to a library when in a state like this. Where had those days gone? The days when I devoted most of the hours of sunshine to studying. Why couldn't I go back to my books that were once the passion of my life?

Deciding that I wouldn't use the drink to escape my troubles I started to leave the room for the library. Silence reigned over the Hall. Holding the candle higher to allow a better sight I made my way to the library. However passing the gallery, I heard what I thought was whisperings.

It was barely audible and for a moment I thought I had imagined it. My mind played many tricks on me lately. I kept walking towards the library when I heard it again. This time I was sure what I had heard was what I thought it was.

There was light in the cold gallery. I could see two figures by the candle, but their identities were hard to discover from that point. I extinguished my own candle and slowly crept nearer, without the intention of being discovered.

When I was near enough to see their faces…I gasped!

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Ha a cliffhanger!

I hope you liked this chapter. I was busy reading so I was late in writing, sorry! I'll try to update sooner next time!

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	6. The Cold Gallery

A/N: Rochester's point of view was hard to write but fortunately I'm done with him so we return to Jane's and her view of the things happening around

A/N: Rochester's point of view was hard to write but fortunately I'm done with him so we return to Jane's and her view of the things happening around.

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**The Cold Gallery**

I did not see my master again that day. I wondered what happened to his sister in law. Adele was pulling at my skirt the moment I entered the library, pleading with me to play with her in the orchard because she was 'so bored' as she said. I took her, having nothing else to do.

"Isn't the weather wonderful at night, Miss Eyre?" she asked in French.

"Yes it is Adele"

"Why then is Mr. Rochester so cross?"

"Did you see him today?"

"Just now when he was going to the north tower."

"Well he has troubles that disturb him."

"Do you have troubles Miss Eyre?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because you look so sad" I smiled at her.

"Adele, everyone have troubles of their own, and when you grow up you may have some too, but I hope you wouldn't."

She was silent and neither of us talked until we were outside the house.

I watched Adele play around and occasionally joined her in a race. After some time when I was quite exhausted, she obliged to play by herself, leaving me sitting breathless on the grass. As I watched her run to the other side I heard voices near the gates.

I recognized my master's voice at once but could not make out what they were saying. I went slowly towards the gates, taking care that they wouldn't see me. The other man was apparently Mr. Carter. I saw Mr. Rochester shake hands with him and go back inside. 'I can find out what is wrong with Bertha now' I thought and running towards the stable where Mr. Carter's carriage was; I called to him.

"Oh you must be Miss Eyre!" said the good man.

"Yes" I answered

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I…well…I wanted to know how is Mrs. Rochester." I said but to my surprise he gasped and looked at me wide eyed.

"How do you know about her?" he asked "Mr. Rochester intended to keep that a secret."

"Well that accounts for his displeasure when I found out" I said rather to myself than to him. "Why is it a secret?"

"Well I think he is ashamed." He answered.

"But there is n reason to be. After all she is only her brother's wife" I reasoned

"His brothers? No, no she is…" he trailed off

"Yes?" he seemed doubtful

"Well I don't know why he is ashamed. Or perhaps he doesn't want to arouse any gossip." He said at last but he refused to look me in the eye while saying that and I felt that he was keeping something but it was not in my place to press him farther about things that were not my business.

"So how was she?" I asked

"Not well I'm afraid. She has pneumonia and is not likely to live much farther."

"Oh" I only managed to mouth.

"Well I have to go, goodnight" he said and hastened away into the darkness.

"Goodnight" I said after him.

I must have stayed there for a while staring into the dark distant, lost in thought, for I didn't hear Adele coming towards me.

"Miss Eyre It's getting cold, may we go inside?" she asked

"Yes we better do!" I answered, taking her small hand and leading her towards the house.

Once I had put Adele to bed I tiptoed to my own chamber through the dark Hall, where the comfort of a warm bed was awaiting me. Once I had let my head fall on the soft fabric of the pillow, I realized that I had had no supper.

However once I was ceased by the exhaustion of all that had passed that day, my hunger was forgotten and I lapsed into a dreamless sleep.

I did not know if I was still sleep or awakened, but I thought I heard something knock on the door. When I was completely conscious in some minutes I realized that the door knob was being pushed down frantically. I thanked God that I had locked my door or heavens knew what was the surprise I was about to receive.

Of course I knew it was Bertha but that did not make me fear less. My first reaction was that I stay in bed and ignore her till she got tired and went away, but that proved impossible. What if she went off and attacked someone else like Mr. Rochester in his sleep?

I decided that I would open the door and if she attacked I could scream for help. With shaking hands I reached out for the key and very slowly turned it in the lock. I expected the door to be pushed open but Bertha became silent on the other side and stopped moving. I opened the door.

She was standing there motionless, staring at me. Suddenly she came over me seizing my wrists in one hand and keeping my mouth closed with the other in a way that I could neither scream nor breathe. I was too petrified to struggle and easily subsided to her when she started pushing me towards the gallery.

There was a single candle burning there. Once we were standing inside the cold gallery she released me to pick up the candle. Then in a hoarse voice whispered,

"I want to save you."

"Save me?" I said bewildered "What do you mean? What are you planning Bertha?" I thought I heard someone enter the room, I could have sworn that I heard someone gasp but Bertha seemed oblivious to that. I decided that I had imagined that, my nerves must have been on false alarm due to the darkness and her threatening presence.

"You should run and never come back?"

"Why?"

"He wants to take you too. He will imprison you and will never let you see sunshine again."

"Who?"

"The master."

"How do you know?"

"Because he told me that I'm the mistress."

"Bertha you are ill you should go back to bed"

"No!" she bellowed.

"Bertha…"

"You must run away and save yourself or you will be a prisoner."

"Of who?" I asked. I didn't understand her and probably she didn't know what she was doing herself! Fearing that she would attack me like before, however, I had to keep her calm.

"him!" she said. I shook my head.

"You are a threat to me and yourself here. I have to get rid of you." She said. Suddenly she drew a silver shining knife out of one of her pockets and ran towards me. I screamed.

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A/N: Sorry but I love cliff hangers. I also owe you all an apology for the long waiting! Sorry! And also thanks for all the reviews, I love you all! BTW there is a pole in my profile. I'd be honored if you vote! And check out my forum please.


	7. Unnecessary Promises

Unnecessary Promises

Unnecessary Promises

She drew a silver knife out of her pocket and ran towards me. I screamed and in an effort to back away stumbled on my long night gown and fell. I anticipated her large form on myself and the blade on my neck with closed eyes however nothing approached me and I heard Bertha roar instead.

I opened my eyes, still lying on the floor, to see two figures struggling together a few feet from me. Two strong hands were holding hers and had thrown the knife away from her reach. Mr. Rochester held her tightly while she kicked and roared. At last he mustered her and called out to me,

"Jane, go up to her room and fetch the ropes you find there."

Without hesitation I obeyed and ran to the flight of stairs. Opening the door frantically I found Grace snorting heavily on a chair. She woke up with a start and looked at me as a shade of bewilderment crossed her face.

"Miss Eyre! What are you…?"

She looked over at Bertha's empty bed and her eyes widened a look of guilt over her face. Then she turned to me.

"Mr. Rochester asked for the ropes."

"Ah yes, yes. The ropes, they are right here." She got up hastily and found them somewhere near the bed. Handing them to me she eyed me anxiously as if unsure of my health.

I ran back to the Gallery Grace following me. Bertha was still struggling hard for her freedom but was firmly denied by her brother in law. I approached quickly but cautiously, handing the ropes to my master. Grace held her while he tied Bertha. She was screaming now in anguish and it crushed me to hear a fellow woman scream like that. I pitied her, reader. I wished I could help her but felt utterly powerless.

"Take her back, Mrs. Poole. We will discuss this in the morning." Mr. Rochester said roughly. Grace nodded and obeyed.

Once the sound of their footsteps and Bertha's cry's died away he turned to me. I did not know what to say. I feared that he was angry.

"Are you hurt, Jane?" he asked calmly but his expression was grave in candle light.

"No, sir" I simply answered.

"What on earth were you doing here at this hour? And with her?" he burst out suddenly.

I was speechless. What could I say? I felt foolish but it had not seemed foolish when I had come. Instead of speaking I simply locked my eyes with him unconsciously; diving in the deep blackness. A rare softness, I could detect in his eyes. Those eyes that softened so charmingly when they fall upon me; those eyes that I loved when they graced me with a glance were staring into mine now and I found myself loving them more than ever before.

"I'm sorry" I said dropping my eyes to the ground.

"You gave me a fright, Jane! What would I do if she had hurt you? I could never forgive myself!"

"Forgive _me_, sir. I should not have, but I had no choice…"

"I won't wonder if you leave after this. You won't feel safe." He said.

The bitterness of leaving filled me. I knew I had to depart with the dearest aspirations I had experienced the longing for in life, one day soon. Yet the bitterness in his voice combined with the aroused grief that had been dwelling in me ever since the knowledge of his upcoming wedding, brought fresh tears to my eyes. I could hardly avoid sobbing let alone concealing the tears, however I tried.

"Heart's dearest why do you cry?" He asked his voice filled with the softness I had seen in his eyes.

"I don't want to leave everything that has meant the world to me behind" I sobbed. It was useless to deny that I was crying.

"What has Jane?"

"Living here at Thornfield. It is so peaceful and I was so happy here, Feeling Mrs. Fairfax and Adele's affection and _your_ kindness."

"Peaceful!" he smirked "Jane you are depressed after what happened tonight, you need rest. There now, don't cry it breaks my heart. Go back to your room."

I wiped my tears but they kept flowing. Still staring at my feet I mumbled, "Goodnight"

"Good night Jane" he said. I turned to leave but the feeling of his warm hand on my shoulder brought me to a halt.

"Jane?"

"Sir?"

"Will you promise me something?"

"What do you wish, sir?"

"That you won't leave just yet?"

"I will only leave at your command"

He nodded; I tried to smile but in vain.

"And you'll keep the promise you previously made, sir? That Adele and I would be safely out of your house before…" I could not bring myself to complete my sentence.

"Yes, Jane. Goodnight"

"Goodnight, sir" and I was gone. If I had listened well and hadn't been so in thought perhaps I could here him whisper "I don't think that promise would be necessary, no bride shall enter this house but you, my darling" but I went back to bed in a sour mood and wet eyes. Sleep did not come until late after midnight.

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I'm sorry if this one is short but at least I updated fast, didn't I? And please review and let me know what you think! Please guys check out my forum too! Oh my day after tomorrow is the first day of school. sigh


	8. The Proposal

OK this whole chapter belongs to Bronte

OK this whole chapter belongs to Bronte. I couldn't bring myself to change this part of the book so because it was necessary in the plot I wrote it. It's exactly the same as the one in the original story so only if you miss that part read this! o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

The Proposal

A splendid Midsummer shone over England: skies so pure, suns so radiant as were then seen in long succession, seldom favor even singly, our wave-girt land. It was as if a band of Italian days had come from the South, like a flock of glorious passenger birds, and lighted to rest them on the cliffs of Albion. The hay was all got in; the fields round Thornfield were green and shorn; the roads white and baked; the trees were in their dark prime; hedge and wood, full-leaved and deeply tinted, contrasted well with the sunny hue of the cleared meadows between.

On Midsummer-eve, Adèle, weary with gathering wild strawberries in Hay Lane half the day, had gone to bed with the sun. I watched her drop asleep, and when I left her, I sought the garden.

It was now the sweetest hour of the twenty-four: -- "Day its fervid fires had wasted," and dew fell cool on panting plain and scorched summit. Where the sun had gone down in simple state -- pure of the pomp of clouds -- spread a solemn purple, burning with the light of red jewel and furnace flame at one point, on one hill-peak, and extending high and wide, soft and still softer, over half heaven. The east had its own charm or fine deep blue, and its own modest gem, a casino and solitary star: soon it would boast the moon; but she was yet beneath the horizon.

I walked a while on the pavement; but a subtle, well-known scent -- that of a cigar -- stole from some window; I saw the library casement open a handbreadth; I knew I might be watched thence; so I went apart into the orchard. No nook in the grounds more sheltered and more Eden-like; it was full of trees, it bloomed with flowers: a very high wall shut it out from the court, on one side; on the other, a beech avenue screened it from the lawn. At the bottom was a sunk fence; its sole separation from lonely fields: a winding walk, bordered with laurels and terminating in a giant horse-chestnut, circled at the base by a seat, led down to the fence. Here one could wander unseen. While such honey-dew fell, such silence reigned, such gloaming gathered, I felt as if I could haunt such shade for ever; but in threading the flower and fruit parterres at the upper part of the enclosure, enticed there by the light the now rising moon cast on this more open quarter, my step is stayed -- not by sound, not by sight, but once more by a warning fragrance.

Sweet-briar and southernwood, jasmine, pink, and rose have long been yielding their evening sacrifice of incense: this new scent is neither of shrub nor flower; it is -- I know it well -- it is Mr. Rochester's cigar. I look round and I listen. I see trees laden with ripening fruit. I hear a nightingale warbling in a wood half a mile off; no moving form is visible, no coming step audible; but that perfume increases: I must flee. I make for the wicket leading to the shrubbery, and I see Mr. Rochester entering. I step aside into the ivy recess; he will not stay long: he will soon return whence he came, and if I sit still he will never see me.

But no -- eventide is as pleasant to him as to me, and this antique garden as attractive; and he strolls on, now lifting the gooseberry-tree branches to look at the fruit, large as plums, with which they are laden; now taking a ripe cherry from the wall; now stooping towards a knot of flowers, either to inhale their fragrance or to admire the dew-beads on their petals. A great moth goes humming by me; it alights on a plant at Mr. Rochester's foot: he sees it, and bends to examine it.

"Now, he has his back towards me," thought I, "and he is occupied too; perhaps, if I walk softly, I can slip away unnoticed."

I trode on an edging of turf that the crackle of the pebbly gravel might not betray me: he was standing among the beds at a yard or two distant from where I had to pass; the moth apparently engaged him. "I shall get by very well," I meditated. As I crossed his shadow, thrown long over the garden by the moon, not yet risen high, he said quietly, without turning: --

"Jane, come and look at this fellow."

I had made no noise: he had not eyes behind -- could his shadow feel? I started at first, and then I approached him.

"Look at his wings," said he, "he reminds me rather of a West Indian insect; one does not often see so large and gay a night-rover in England; there! he is flown."

The moth roamed away. I was sheepishly retreating also; but Mr. Rochester followed me, and when we reached the wicket, he said: --

"Turn back: on so lovely a night it is a shame to sit in the house; and surely no one can wish to go to bed while sunset is thus at meeting with moonrise."

It is one of my faults, that though my tongue is sometimes prompt enough at an answer, there are times when it sadly fails me in framing an excuse; and always the lapse occurs at some crisis, when a facile word or plausible pretext is specially wanted to get me out of painful embarrassment. I did not like to walk at this hour alone with Mr. Rochester in the shadowy orchard; but I could not find a reason to allege for leaving him. I followed with lagging step, and thoughts busily bent on discovering a means of extrication; but he himself looked so composed and so grave also, I became ashamed of feeling any confusion: the evil -- if evil existent or prospective there was -- seemed to lie with me only; his mind was unconscious and quiet.

"Jane," he recommenced, as we entered the laurel walk, and slowly strayed down in the direction of the sunk fence and the horse-chestnut, "Thornfield is a pleasant place in summer, is it not?"

"Yes, sir."

"You must have become in some degree attached to the house, -- you, who have an eye for natural beauties, and a good deal of the organ of Adhesiveness?"

"I am attached to it, indeed."

"And though I don't comprehend how it is, I perceive you have acquired a degree of regard for that foolish little child Adèle, too; and even for simple dame Fairfax?"

"Yes, sir; in different ways, I have an affection for both."

"And would be sorry to part with them?"

"Yes."

"Pity!" he said, and sighed and paused. "It is always the way of events in this life," he continued presently: "no sooner have you got settled in a pleasant resting-place, than a voice calls out to you to rise and move on, for the hour of repose is expired."

"Must I move on, sir?" I asked. "Must I leave Thornfield?"

"I believe you must, Jane. I am sorry, Janet, but I believe indeed you must."

This was a blow: but I did not let it prostrate me.

"Well, sir, I shall be ready when the order to march comes."

"It is come now -- I must give it to-night."

"Then you ARE going to be married, sir?"

"Ex-act-ly -- pre-cise-ly: with your usual acuteness, you have hit the nail straight on the head."

"Soon, sir?"

"Very soon, my -- that is, Miss Eyre: and you'll remember, Jane, the first time I, or Rumour, plainly intimated to you that it was my intention to put my old bachelor's neck into the sacred noose, to enter into the holy estate of matrimony -- to take Miss Ingram to my bosom, in short (she's an extensive armful: but that's not to the point -- one can't have too much of such a very excellent thing as my beautiful Blanche): well, as I was saying -- listen to me, Jane! You're not turning your head to look after more moths, are you? That was only a lady-clock, child, 'flying away home.' I wish to remind you that it was you who first said to me, with that discretion I respect in you -- with that foresight, prudence, and humility which befit your responsible and dependent position -- that in case I married Miss Ingram, both you and little Adèle had better trot forthwith. I pass over the sort of slur conveyed in this suggestion on the character of my beloved; indeed, when you are far away, Janet, I'll try to forget it: I shall notice only its wisdom; which is such that I have made it my law of action. Adèle must go to school; and you, Miss Eyre, must get a new situation."

"Yes, sir, I will advertise immediately: and meantime, I suppose" -- I was going to say, "I suppose I may stay here, till I find another shelter to betake myself to:" but I stopped, feeling it would not do to risk a long sentence, for my voice was not quite under command.

"In about a month I hope to be a bridegroom," continued Mr. Rochester; "and in the interim, I shall myself look out for employment and an asylum for you."

"Thank you, sir; I am sorry to give" --

"Oh, no need to apologize! I consider that when a dependent does her duty as well as you have done yours, she has a sort of claim upon her employer for any little assistance he can conveniently render her; indeed I have already, through my future mother-in-law, heard of a place that I think will suit: it is to undertake the education of the five daughters of Mrs. Dionysius O'Gall of Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland. You'll like Ireland, I think: they're such warm-hearted people there, they say."

"It is a long way off, sir."

"No matter -- a girl of your sense will not object to the voyage or the distance."

"Not the voyage, but the distance: and then the sea is a barrier" --

"From what, Jane?"

"From England and from Thornfield: and" --

"Well?"

"From _you_, sir."

I said this almost involuntarily, and, with as little sanction of free will, my tears gushed out. I did not cry so as to be heard, however; I avoided sobbing. The thought of Mrs. O'Gall and Bitternutt Lodge struck cold to my heart; and colder the thought of all the brine and foam, destined, as it seemed, to rush between me and the master at whose side I now walked, and coldest the remembrance of the wider ocean -- wealth, caste, custom intervened between me and what I naturally and inevitably loved.

"It is a long way," I again said.

"It is, to be sure; and when you get to Bitternutt Lodge, Connaught, Ireland, I shall never see you again, Jane: that's morally certain. I never go over to Ireland, not having myself much of a fancy for the country. We have been good friends, Jane; have we not?"

"Yes, sir."

"And when friends are on the eve of separation, they like to spend the little time that remains to them close to each other. Come! we'll talk over the voyage and the parting quietly half-an-hour or so, while the stars enter into their shining life up in heaven yonder: here is the chestnut tree: here is the bench at its old roots. Come, we will sit there in peace to-night, though we should never more be destined to sit there together." He seated me and himself.

"It is a long way to Ireland, Janet, and I am sorry to send my little friend on such weary travels: but if I can't do better, how is it to be helped? Are you anything akin to me, do you think, Jane?"

I could risk no sort of answer by this time: my heart was still.

"Because," he said, "I sometimes have a queer feeling with regard to you -- especially when you are near me, as now: it is as if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly and inextricably knotted to a similar string situated in the corresponding quarter of your little frame. And if that boisterous Channel, and two hundred miles or so of land come broad between us, I am afraid that cord of communion will be snapt; and then I've a nervous notion I should take to bleeding inwardly. As for you, -- you'd forget me."

"That I _never_ should, sir: you know" -- impossible to proceed.

"Jane, do you hear that nightingale singing in the wood? Listen!"

In listening, I sobbed convulsively; for I could repress what I endured no longer; I was obliged to yield, and I was shaken from head to foot with acute distress. When I did speak, it was only to express an impetuous wish that I had never been born, or never come to Thornfield.

"Because you are sorry to leave it?"

The vehemence of emotion, stirred by grief and love within me, was claiming mastery, and struggling for full sway, and asserting a right to predominate, to overcome, to live, rise, and reign at last: yes, -- and to speak.

"I grieve to leave Thornfield: I love Thornfield: -- I love it, because I have lived in it a full and delightful life, -- momentarily at least. I have not been trampled on. I have not been petrified. I have not been buried with inferior minds, and excluded from every glimpse of communion with what is bright and energetic and high. I have talked, face to face, with what I reverence, with what I delight in, -- with an original, a vigorous, an expanded mind. I have known you, Mr. Rochester; and it strikes me with terror and anguish to feel I absolutely must be torn from you for ever. I see the necessity of departure; and it is like looking on the necessity of death."

"Where do you see the necessity?" he asked suddenly.

"Where? You, sir, have placed it before me."

"In what shape?"

"In the shape of Miss Ingram; a noble and beautiful woman, -- your bride."

"My bride! What bride? I have no bride!"

"But you will have."

"Yes; -- I will! -- I will!" He set his teeth.

"Then I must go: -- you have said it yourself."

"No: you must stay! I swear it -- and the oath shall be kept."

"I tell you I must go!" I retorted, roused to something like passion. "Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automaton? -- a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong! -- I have as much soul as you, -- and full as much heart! And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should have made it as hard for you to leave me, as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionalities, nor even of mortal flesh; -- it is my spirit that addresses your spirit; just as if both had passed through the grave, and we stood at God's feet, equal, -- as we are!"

"As we are!" repeated Mr. Rochester -- "so," he added, enclosing me in his arms. Gathering me to his breast, pressing his lips on my lips: "so, Jane!"

"Yes, so, sir," I rejoined: "and yet not so; for you are a married man -- or as good as a married man, and wed to one inferior to you -- to one with whom you have no sympathy -- whom I do not believe you truly love; for I have seen and heard you sneer at her. I would scorn such a union: therefore I am better than you -- let me go!"

"Where, Jane? To Ireland?"

"Yes -- to Ireland. I have spoken my mind, and can go anywhere now."

"Jane, be still; don't struggle so, like a wild frantic bird that is rending its own plumage in its desperation."

"I am no bird; and no net ensnares me; I am a free human being with an independent will, which I now exert to leave you."

Another effort set me at liberty, and I stood erect before him.

"And your will shall decide your destiny," he said: "I offer you my hand, my heart, and a share of all my possessions."

"You play a farce, which I merely laugh at."

"I ask you to pass through life at my side -- to be my second self, and best earthly companion."

"For that fate you have already made your choice, and must abide by it."

"Jane, be still a few moments: you are over-excited: I will be still too."

A waft of wind came sweeping down the laurel-walk, and trembled through the boughs of the chestnut: it wandered away -- away -- to an indefinite distance -- it died. The nightingale's song was then the only voice of the hour: in listening to it, I again wept. Mr. Rochester sat quiet, looking at me gently and seriously. Some time passed before he spoke; he at last said: --

"Come to my side, Jane, and let us explain and understand one another."

"I will never again come to your side: I am torn away now, and cannot return."

"But, Jane, I summon you as my wife: it is you only I intend to marry."

I was silent: I thought he mocked me.

"Come, Jane -- come hither."

"Your bride stands between us."

He rose, and with a stride reached me.

"My bride is here," he said, again drawing me to him, "because my equal is here, and my likeness. Jane, will you marry me?"

Still I did not answer, and still I writhed myself from his grasp: for I was still incredulous.

"Do you doubt me, Jane?"

"Entirely."

"You have no faith in me?"

"Not a whit."

"Am I a liar in your eyes?" he asked passionately. "Little sceptic, you _shall_ be convinced. What love have I for Miss Ingram? None: and that you know. What love has she for me? None: as I have taken pains to prove: I caused a rumour to reach her that my fortune was not a third of what was supposed, and after that I presented myself to see the result; it was coldness both from her and her mother. I would not -- I could not -- marry Miss Ingram. You -- you strange, you almost unearthly thing! -- I love as my own flesh. You -- poor and obscure, and small and plain as you are -- I entreat to accept me as a husband."

"What, me!" I ejaculated, beginning in his earnestness -- and especially in his incivility -- to credit his sincerity: "me who have not a friend in the world but you- if you are my friend: not a shilling but what you have given me?"

"You, Jane, I must have you for my own -- entirely my own. Will you be mine? Say yes, quickly."

"Mr. Rochester, let me look at your face: turn to the moonlight."

"Why?"

"Because I want to read your countenance -- turn!"

"There! you will find it scarcely more legible than a crumpled, scratched page. Read on: only make haste, for I suffer."

His face was very much agitated and very much flushed, and there were strong workings in the features, and strange gleams in the eyes

"Oh, Jane, you torture me!" he exclaimed. "With that searching and yet faithful and generous look, you torture me!"

"How can I do that? If you are true, and your offer real, my only feelings to you must be gratitude and devotion -- they cannot torture."

"Gratitude!" he ejaculated; and added wildly -- "Jane accept me quickly. Say, Edward -- give me my name -- Edward -- I will marry you."

"Are you in earnest? Do you truly love me? Do you sincerely wish me to be your wife?"

"I do; and if an oath is necessary to satisfy you, I swear it."

"Then, sir, I will marry you."

"Edward -- my little wife!"

"Dear Edward!"

"Come to me -- come to me entirely now," said he; and added, in his deepest tone, speaking in my ear as his cheek was laid on mine, "Make my happiness -- I will make yours."

"God pardon me!" he subjoined ere long; "and man meddle not with me: I have her, and will hold her."

"There is no one to meddle, sir. I have no kindred to interfere."

"No -- that is the best of it," he said. And if I had loved him less I should have thought his accent and look of exultation savage; but, sitting by him, roused from the nightmare of parting -- called to the paradise of union -- I thought only of the bliss given me to drink in so abundant a flow. Again and again he said, "Are you happy, Jane?" And again and again I answered, "Yes." After which he murmured, "It will atone -- it will atone. Have I not found her friendless, and cold, and comfortless? Will I not guard, and cherish, and solace her? Is there not love in my heart, and constancy in my resolves? It will expiate at God's tribunal. I know my Maker sanctions what I do. For the world's judgment -- I wash my hands thereof. For man's opinion -- I defy it."

But what had befallen the night? The moon was not yet set, and we were all in shadow: I could scarcely see my master's face, near as I was. And what ailed the chestnut tree? it writhed and groaned; while wind roared in the laurel walk, and came sweeping over us.

"We must go in," said Mr. Rochester: "the weather changes. I could have sat with thee till morning, Jane."

"And so," thought I, "could I with you." I should have said so, perhaps, but a livid, vivid spark leapt out of a cloud at which I was looking, and there was a crack, a crash, and a close rattling peal; and I thought only of hiding my dazzled eyes against Mr. Rochester's shoulder.

The rain rushed down. He hurried me up the walk, through the grounds, and into the house; but we were quite wet before we could pass the threshold. He was taking off my shawl in the hall, and shaking the water out of my loosened hair, when Mrs. Fairfax emerged from her room. I did not observe her at first, nor did Mr. Rochester. The lamp was lit. The clock was on the stroke of twelve.

"Hasten to take off your wet things," said he; "and before you go, good-night -- good-night, my darling!"

He kissed me repeatedly. When I looked up, on leaving his arms, there stood the widow, pale, grave, and amazed. I only smiled at her, and ran upstairs. "Explanation will do for another time," thought I. Still, when I reached my chamber, I felt a pang at the idea she should even temporarily misconstrue what she had seen. But joy soon effaced every other feeling; and loud as the wind blew, near and deep as the thunder crashed, fierce and frequent as the lightning gleamed, cataract-like as the rain fell during a storm of two hours' duration, I experienced no fear and little awe. Mr. Rochester came thrice to my door in the course of it, to ask if I was safe and tranquil: and that was comfort, that was strength for anything.

Before I left my bed in the morning, little Adèle came running in to tell me that the great horse-chestnut at the bottom of the orchard had been struck by lightning in the night, and half of it split away.


	9. A Pool of Blood

Somehow I feel as if this chapter is full of fluff! I hope you'll enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it. An important part in the plot! And please review even if you have done so before. I wanna know your opinions on the recent chapters.

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**A Pool of Blood**

"Good morning, Jane" said Mr. Rochester gravely on a morning, about a fortnight before our wedding.

"Good morning, sir." I answered, noticing Mrs. Fairfax eyeing us carefully from the corner of her eyes.

"Have you finished breakfast?"

he asked still grave, I could not help but feel a little worried. He was civiler than ever in the past two weeks and his unexpected behavior frightened me. I looked at him, sure that anxiety shone in my eyes.

"Yes" I replied.

"Then meet me in the orchard in a minute" he said, his hand patting my shoulder for a brief second and then turned away. I looked back at the table and found Mrs. Fairfax staring at me and I was hurt to see pity in her eyes. She till thought that I had made a wrong decision, perhaps, and should now regret it. But I did not feel that way in the slightest.

I met my master in the orchard, sitting by the chestnut tree, deep in thought with his eyebrows knotted in a frown. He did not notice me when I approached and kept silent when he did. I sat by his side and took his hand in mine. It was then that I noticed a deep cut on his wrist.

"Edward, what has happened?"

He did not answer I grew impatient and fears of all sorts began to crept into my heart. I realized that I was shaking and my voice was far below steady when I spoke again.

"Edward!"

At my shaking voice he turned to me and noticed the tremble that had consumed my entire person. His dark eyes softened and he pulled me in his arms, softly kissing my forehead as I lay my head on his shoulder.

"Oh I'm sorry to frighten you, Janet. You don't need to fear anything, my darling."

"But what has happened?" I asked. The warmth of his body and the kindness in his voice had calmed down my quivering.

"It's Bertha." He said darkly.

"What about her?"

"She has pneumonia, Jane" he looked me in the eye waiting for my reaction which to his surprise was quite calm, for the reader knows that I had already gathered that information from the physician.

"I knew that" I said

"You did?"

"Yes, Mr. Carter had told me."

"Well she has got worse. Sometimes she gets frustrated with the illness and attacks when you are not on guard." He gestured to the deep wound on his hand.

"Does not the pneumonia weaken her?" I asked

"She is a strong creature, that woman." He said, detest visible in his tone.

"Why do you despise her so, sir?"

"You, of all people, must know how enough reasons I have to hate her."

"But can she help it, sir? Of course not; she does not know, she has no idea of her actions!"

"Jane if only you knew…" he trailed off biting his lower lip.

"What don't I know?"

"She has not always been this way, my darling. But even while possessing her sanity…she…" He left his sentence incomplete. The same look that I had seen on the afternoon that he had told me Adele's history, haunted his face. He had, no doubt, bitter thoughts and memories that sullied her image in his mind.

"Edward?" I whispered in an attempt to bring him back to me, to save him from his own painful thoughts. He turned to me, a warm smile gracing his lips.

"Jane, you won't deny me a kiss, would you my little fairy?"

"No" I smiled "but today is an exception" I retorted cheekily.

"Then I'll use it to the best advantage" he answered before claiming my lips in a passionate kiss.

"Jane," he recommenced once we broke out, "why not accompany me to Millcote this afternoon for a little shopping?"

"Oh no!" I groaned. "Wasn't all those times that we have already been there enough?" I asked.

"You are an extraordinary woman, witch!" he exclaimed. "All women love shopping and fussing about dresses and so on."

"Don't you love me because I'm different?" I teased.

"Of course I do, but what do you like if not shopping?"

"Simply being here with you" I said leaning my head on his chest and he dropped a kiss on my hair.

"Then here you shall remain." He whispered in my hair.

It was a moonless night and the Hall was dark and still. I tossed and turned in the bed but I was restless. I was weary and yet sleep would not favor my tired eyes. I thought back to the pleasant day I had spent. Edward had sat with me that day 'helping' me teach Adele but all he did was distract her until I got frustrated and seeing me that way he smiled and 'advised' me to call it a day and join him and Adele for some fun.

Adele was beside herself with happiness. I smiled to myself; I had never seen the dear child that happy nor her guardian so kind towards her. He had always ignored her and his surprising manner pleased me. I was still amazed at the turn of events in my life. That I was to be Edward Rochester's bride was still incomprehensible to me.

But it was no use. However I tried to think of pleasant thoughts I could not shake off the feeling that something awful was about to happen. At last I left the warmth of my bed to light a candle; the darkness was overcoming me.

The moment the candle's light reigned over the darkness I heard someone shout or rather scream "No!" I jumped in surprise. I knew where the voice had come from; after all that had happened in this house even a fool would know that it was the third story.

I hurried out of the room but I was not the only one. A door, my master's, had been slammed open just after the scream. While I mounted the stairs in hurry I could hear Grace's pleading voice,

"Madame, please give that to me. That is dangerous" Bertha's frightening laugh was also audible but my ears could only hear his voice,

"Bertha, be calm. We don't mean harm, give that knife to me."

Once I stepped on the last stair I heard a cry of pain, one of pure anguish and agony that rang through my ears and tormented my heart. With fear did I put my hand shivering hands on the door knob and turned it.

The sight in front of me was frightful and forlorn. By the light of the several candles I could see Grace, standing in the corner, her hands on her heart and tears in her eyes. She was staring at the ground and trusting the wall to support her for she would fall from the shock she had received.

On the other side of the room was my Edward, he too staring at the ground, his mouth open and his hands shaking slightly. He was on his knees with a blank look on his face. And there a few feet from him was a tall figure with dark long hair, lying motionless on the ground. Her white dress was deep red where the knife had struck and she lay in a pool of blood.

"Oh my God!" I whispered breathless. It was all too much to take in. The smell of blood filled my nose. I felt dizzy and weak.

"Oh Edward!" I said. He turned to me and for a brief second I saw panic rise in his eyes just before I felt my legs give way and fall on the ground.

"Jane!" He was by my side in a second but then darkness filled my eyes and mu mind went blank.


	10. Plans Replanted

A/N: sorry for the long delay but I'm a student with lots of homework who had ambitions! Any way I hope you'll enjoy this and please, please review.

**Plans Replanted**

I was surrounded by warmth of something soft that brushed against my bare arms. I could hardly see anything but a painful light that blocked my vision. I could still hear the voices in my head, not knowing when they started to appear, calling for my attention altogether and giving me a feeling of bewilderment and nausea.

I could not concentrate on recognizing my surroundings and had a vague idea of daylight without remembering what time it was. When was it that I had last fallen sleep? Oh I wished they would quiet down, these anonymous voices, now whispering, now shouting, talking amongst themselves or calling out to me. I was sure they had followed me from the forgotten dreams, which were trying to bring themselves back to life inside my exhausted head.

I groaned from the headache it gave me but they wouldn't go. "Oh please go. Leave me alone" I fervently asked. I wished I could actually utter the words, so they could have a better effect but I could not command my tongue to speak. I could not endure it any longer and I screamed at the top of my lungs.

I did not understand why I was shaking. Perhaps the voices were leaving after all and let me be, for I was tired and desired nothing but rest. I was right; they were fading except one male, gentle voice. I did not mind that. It was as soft as a lullaby and I could finally sleep if my body would stop shivering and shaking.

"Jane, Jane my darling wake" I smiled to the voice, silently hoping that I would keep speaking to me in that soft tone. It was a familiar voice but my tired mind would not attempt to recognize it. The tremble had stopped and I was at ease at last.

But my sweet, innocent hopes were crashed when that voice took a more argent tone that worried me. I opened the heavy lids of my eyes but all I could see was a blur.

"Oh thank God"

"Edward?" consciousness hit me gradually.

"Yes, dearest?"

At last I was freed from the bewilderment I was trapped in. I could see his beloved face hanging over mine with a tender and agitated expression embedded on those harsh, manly features. I could not bear the melancholy anxiousness that had haunted his eyes, so I asked,

"Why are you worried?"

"I'm not anymore" he smiled, looking deep into my eyes, his gaze filled with love and yet concern.

"Your eyes hardly agree" I stated matter-of-factly.

"You read my features like a book"

"I suppose that's because the author isn't good at concealing his feelings from me" I said reaching out to kiss his forehead.

"You witch!" he smiled

"What time is it?"

"Ten in the morning, I think." He paused before adding with a small chuckle "imagine Janet, tomorrow this time we will be man and wife on our way to London"

I was about to cradle his arm in mine when I noticed the blood on his white, torn sleeve. He noticed my stare and looked down to see the object of my attention.

"Jane…"

"What has happened?"

"Do you not remember anything?"

I had to think for several seconds before the terrifying scenes of blood, frightened faces, her savage, blood thirsty features, and the bloody blade falling on the cold wooden floor took life in my memory. I shivered at the recollection and instantly felt Edwards reassuring arms around me.

"Bertha" I simply said, neither a question nor a statement.

"She is gone"

"Is she… dead?

"She committed suicide. She-she stabbed herself. She must have been tired of striving with her illness." He said, his voice betraying no emotion.

"Oh my" I whispered.

"I suppose she took it upon herself to put her out of misery." He said bitterly.

"What about the funeral?" I asked. He seemed surprised. I continued,

"When will you hold her funeral?"

"Well that can be held the day after our wedding, a simple ceremony would do." He replied dryly.

"But are we not to attend?" I asked.

"Do you wish to?"

"But we have to, sir. After all she was your sister in law." He snorted

"Do you not think that we should put off the wedding for the time being?" I persisted.

"Please God; have I not suffered enough for that woman? Don't make me pine for this last chance of happiness for too long." He said with a yearning look on his face and I was not sure if he was addressing me or praying to God.

"But shouldn't we at least be at her funeral out of respect for the dead?"

He thought for a second.

"I don't like but …we'll stay for the funeral. After all it wouldn't be much of a delay but…Jane, I don't wish to postpone the wedding.

"Very well, sir"

"Well, I leave you to rest now. I have to go and take care of some matters."

"What matters?" I asked. Judging from the way his bows furrowed, it must not have been pleasant.

"Well, you know hardly anyone knew about Bertha and all of a sudden we are having her funeral and this may seem suspicious; someone whose existence was not even known committing suicide at night, so the police had to be informed and so they were and now I have to go and act as a witness and close the case or something of the sort. You don't need to worry, Janet." And smiling, he kissed my hair and went out.


	11. To Be United At Last?

To Be United at Last?

The fine weather had freshened the air that was sweet to take in, flavored with the alluring scent of white roses. To my eyes, the sun seemed to be even more glorious than ever, as if it had dressed up for the same occasion as I was doing.

My smoothened hair was decorated with beautiful flowers that were attached to the extravagant, embroidered veil. I lingered in front of the looking glass, after Sophie's skillful hands were done with adorning me, for a few seconds and gazed at the stranger who was looking back at me; and smiled.

"Jane!" came the impatient voice of my, (dare I say it?), husband to be. As I was about to hasten downstairs where my future laid, awaiting me, Sophie said in a soft voice,

"You look beautiful" she hesitated a little before completing with another, to me, stranger word, "Madam".

I smiled with gratitude and murmured my thanks while I was sure my face had become as red as a rose on her compliment. "Jane!" came again with more urge this time and I responded by rushing down.

"Ah at last you… ca…came" he seemed speechless and gave me the feeling of something being out of place before I realized what it was. I believe he did not expect to see me look the way I probably did. Although I was sure that Blanche Ingram would have looked far more beautiful than I could have possibly done, I could not help but to feel pride for the love I saw in his eyes.

"You know Jane," he said after sometime, "You never gave me the potion that was supposed to make me a handsomer man so I could match my bride better externally."

"When you asked me that once before, I replied that it forgoes the power of magic but did I ever mention audibly what I then had said within my own heart?"

"No, you did not"

"I said, 'A loving eye is all the charm needed, to such you are handsome enough; or rather your sternness has a power beyond beauty" I leaned towards him as I said this and he embraced me lovingly.

"We have to go or we'll be late" he murmured in my hair; pulling away he asked if I'll have my breakfast to which I answered in the negative, saying that I was too excited to eat anything.

He the left me for a brief moment to organize some details with his newly hired servant and while I was waiting for him I heard the footsteps of old Mrs. Fairfax whose usual kind smile had brightened her face.

"I still find it hard to believe that you are actually marrying the master, and at such a young age too! Although I don't fear for you anymore, I'm sure you'll be happy together. One can see that he loves you and you very well deserve it."

"Thank you" I simply replied to the good lady.

At that moment Mr. Rochester came in and smiling broadly, took my arm and led me out. We weren't outside the gates yet when Adele's childish voice called after us.

"Monsieur Rochester! Mademoiselle! Attendez!"

We stopped to face her.

« Mademoiselle, vous semblez beau » she said

Her remark was said with such childish innocence and simplicity that it nearly brought tears to my eyes.

"Monsieur, can I tell her your secret, now?" she whispered to Mr. Rochester.

"Secret?" I asked looking at him questioningly. He looked back at me briefly and turned back to Adele and said,

"I think she knows it, now!"

"Oh did _you_ tell her?"

"No, she found it out on her own." He answered nonchalantly.

"How?" came again a childish question.

"Well, didn't I tell you she is a fairy?" he whispered mischievously and audibly in her ear. She looked at me, with shining eyes, made me bend down and kissed my cheek and ran back to the house.

"What secret was she talking about?" I asked as we recommenced our walk to the church.

"Sometime before I expressed my love to you I confessed it to her; and to my amazement I found her really reliable for secrets. She never said a word." I smiled. I could have never imagined Edward with his obvious dislike of little Adele would disclose such a secret to her.

Edward chuckled at the expression I probably had on and I thought I could see a certain glow in is eyes, an inevitable glee in his tone that had never been there before. His manner was more carefree and his features though as stern as before, were now less gloomy and free of shadows.

At last we reached our destination and the magnificent sacred walls became visible. Our paces involuntarily quickened as I was sure we were both eager to be united at last.

A/N: You should really appreciate this update people! I'm doing it in the middle of exams and by now the only exams I'll get an absolute 100% is math! Our English language sucked. They asked an adjective for _king_! That's the stupidest thing I had ever seen. Although the answer was _kingly_! And our science teacher was like: _its kingship_. And I wonder from where she got that as an adjective!! Anyway I'm looking forward to the next chapter as it is the original scene upon which this whole story was developed. I always wondered what if Bertha had died during these three months that Richard claimed so confidently she was alive. Please review the story is reaching it's last!


	12. Almost in Sight

Almost in Sight

I require and charge you both (as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed), that if either of you know any impediment why ye may not lawfully be joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it; for be ye well assured that so many as are coupled together otherwise than God's Word doth allow, are not joined together by God, neither is their matrimony lawful." He paused, as the custom is.

I felt Mr. Rochester's hand relax into mine. His hand was warm and comfort radiated from it. I looked into his serene face from which happiness shone. It calmed my heart; and I knew I was the happiest woman that had ever sun shone on, at that moment.

The priest continued as he stretched his hand towards Mr. Rochester to ask "Wilt thou ha…" When a nearby voice cut through his words: "The marriage can not go on"

….….Mr. Rochester's POV……

I could hear my heart stop as those unspeakable words were spoken. However I tried to assure myself that I was not doing any wrong, that that beast was now dead and had no bounds with me; I could not still convince myself of the rightness of lying to my love. I prayed that she would find a place for forgiving a person such as myself. I dared not look at her face when that devil of a man announced that I had a 'wife now living'

I could feel Jane's eyes fixed on me and knew I had no choice but to look back. I could feel the fury and the despair if she refuses to marry me all building up inside me. And the only comfort I could find among all that anguish was to possess my angel's hand in mine. While anger flew out of me as I spoke I said,

"Who are you?" I barely cared for the answer.  
"My name is Briggs, a solicitor of ---- Street, London."

"And you would thrust on me a wife?"

"I would remind you of your lady's existence, sir, which the law recognizes, if you do not." My 'lady's' existence? If this man knew whom he was reffering to I dobt he would have used that phrase! As long as I remembered my 'lady' had transformed into a demon shortly after I married struggling to deny everything I said,

"Favour me with an account of her -- with her name, her parentage, her place of abode."

"Certainly." Briggs calmly took a paper from his pocket, and read out in a sort of official, nasal voice: --

"'I affirm and can prove that on the 20th of October A.D. ---- (a date of fifteen years back), Edward Fairfax Rochester, of Thornfield Hall, in the county of ----, and of Ferndean Manor, in ----shire, England, was married to my sister, Bertha Antoinetta Mason, daughter of Jonas Mason, merchant, and of Antoinetta his wife, a Creole -- at ---- church, Spanish Town, Jamaica. The record of the marriage will be found in the register of that church -- a copy of it is now in my possession. Signed, Richard Mason.'"

"That if a genuine document – may prove that I've been married but does not mention that the woman therein mentioned as my wife is still living." The reader might consider me a heartless wretch but I couldn't help thanking God for the pneumonia that had taken the life out of her, at that moment.

"She was living three months ago" Three months the man said! Could the fool possibly mean that a person could not die in the course of three months?! And yet my curiosity urged me to ask how he had come to know of her being alive. His answer to my lament was to introduce Mason!

I glared at him who was the reason of all my miseries. The force of wrath made me raise my arm to strike him to the church's floor but the coward shrank away.

"What have _you_ to say?" an inaudible reply escaped Mason's lips and I demanded the answer again.

At last he said "She is now living at Thornfield Hall, I saw her there last April. I am her brother."

"Last April Mason! Three months! Your sister had been striving with Pneumonia for the past three weeks. She committed suicide last week. But of course if you were on your way to England you didn't receive the letter I sent you on account of her death."

He stared at me, shocked and paralyzed. And I felt a cruel triumph over him.

"I don't believe it. You are lying. YOU ARE LYING!" he cried. I could see the fear my words hung over his features and the tears that had filled his frightened eyes.

"You are welcome to come and see her. Her funeral was to be tomorrow." I answered coolly. Still having hold of Jane's hand I lead the way back to Thornfield without another word and Richard and Briggs followed behind. The clerk seeing that there was to be no wedding (for both Richard and Briggs wanted proof) left the church. The priest followed us as well. I had not informed him about the funeral yet.

Jane was staring at me with watery eyes, but completely composed. She would not talk nor would she break down to tears. I pressed her hand in mine; she did not snatch it away and all the way we were all trapped in a dreadful silence. I wondered what was going on her mind. Would she ever forgive me now that she knew I had been trying to decieve her? Had I blighted all the love she had cofessed for me once upon a sweet evening? But she did not know everything. She had not heard my side of story. I trusted my little Jane's justice in judgment. ?I knew she would not deny me a chance to explain.

Her little hand was icy cold and I felt her slight shivering. To shiver in the summer sun can only mean that warmth had deserted her heart. And I vowed there and then as we were passing the gates that I would not lose her, I would get her heart back and fill it with the warmth, that only love can give, again.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A/N: I hope the characters are not going out of character! This chapter and the one after this are really hard! Lots of thanx to kamercon for her invaluable advice and I appriciate any more critisms or advice!


	13. Bliss Again

_Disclaimer: If I ever said that Jane Eyre and Edward belonged to me, would you have believed me? I wish!!! _

_Any way I'm sorry for the long delay and hope you'll enjoy this chapter only half of which belongs to me!_

**Bliss Again**

I had never felt more miserable than the hour I spent alone in my room after the wedding. I felt suffocated among the doubts that plagued my mind and heart. Just before Mr. Rochester came to save me from my fears and doubts, I had admitted to myself that I had lost my all to foolish love that had never existed. I can never forget the pain I felt while I could hear my heart shred to pieces. Had he lied to me about everything? Then I had no place here anymore and had to leave. But where, I had no where to go. What would become of my future? Oh but perhaps he would send somewhere where I could build myself again, find myself. _He_ would not let me remain here, but would not leave me to die in isolation, either.

A knock on the door broke the cold silence of my room.

"Miss Eyre?" It was Mrs. Fairfax's old, shaky but friendly and sympathetic voice.

"Yes?" I replied, not moving from my place by the bed. My voice was hoarse from not speaking for a long time.

"If you would please step outside? A … Mr. Briggs wishes to talk to you." I jumped at the name but opened the door nevertheless.

"Oh you look so pale, my dear. Would you like something to eat before you go down?" asked the kind lady.

"No, thank you, Mrs. Fairfax." I smiled.

"Very well, then. Come with me." She still looked worried but said nothing more and led me to the familiar drawing room where Mr. Briggs had been waiting for me. It needed a lot of courage for me to ask Mrs. Fairfax just before she left about Mr. Rochester. I simply asked,

"Mrs. Fair fax, Do . . . do you know where Mr. Rochester is?" I could swear I saw tears collect in her eyes but she did well in hiding them.

"He is with Mr. Mason in the parlour to see the coffin. Go in now dear. You might see Mr. Rochester later."

I nodded and did as I was told. Mr. Briggs stood up as I entered.

"I'm sorry for what happened." He began, but I kept gazing at he ground for the fear of the threat my tears posed.

"But I have some matter of great importance to tell you. It's about your uncle, Mr. Eyre."

"My Uncle? What of him? Do you know him?"

"Well yes. You see Mr. Mason comes from Madeira where your Uncle is now living. When he received a letter from you regarding your marriage, Mr. Mason had been there and was horrified when he realized how he had deceived you. As your uncle is not in perfect health, he hired me to help Mr. Mason stop the false matrimony. He is now, I'm sorry to say, on his death bed but wishes to see you. Although you do have some cousins that are staying in Madeira with your uncle right now, it is his wish that you should inherit all his property."

All this came upon me as a shock. I did not know what to say. How could I go to Madeira? With what means? I felt weak and lost, with no one to support me, with nothing to rely on. My mind was on a whirlwind and my eyes could no longer see clearly and before I knew it, I was lost in the depths of darkness.

* * * * * * * *

I had the vague sense of my soft bed below me, and a yet softer and deep voice was calling my name. When at last I could distinctively see the low candle light, I also became aware of the cold, wet fabric being brushed lightly over my forehead and the warm hand that possessed mine.

I could see his face, filled with emotion and unchanged love. I did not know what emotions _I_ showed in my eyes but I saw a single tear drop from his eyelashes. At last I broke the painful silence with my own tired, broken voice.

"Edward, I have to go"

"Where, Jane?"

"To Madeira, sir; to my uncle. He is waiting for me."

"And leave me, Jane?" I did not answer.

"I won't allow it! You can't leave me. I'll be desolate without you. You know, you know I can't live if you go. Please forgive me, my darling."

"Do you really love me? Were your words true? You lied to me! If Bertha had not died you still would have tried to deceive me into a foul marriage!"

"You know nothing about me, and nothing about the sort of love of which I am capable. Jane, did you ever hear or know at I was not the eldest son of my house: that I had once a brother older than I?"

"I remember Mrs. Fairfax told me so once."

"And did you ever hear that my father was an avaricious, grasping man?"

"I have understood something to that effect."

"Well, Jane, being so, it was his resolution to keep the property together; he could not bear the idea of dividing his estate and leaving me a fair portion: all, he resolved, should go to my brother, Rowland. Yet as little could he endure that a son of his should be a poor man. I must be provided for by a wealthy marriage. He sought me a partner betimes. Mr. Mason, a West India planter and merchant, was his old acquaintance.

He was certain his possessions were real and vast: he made inquiries. Mr. Mason, he found, had a son and daughter; and he learned from him that he could and would give the latter a fortune of thirty thousand pounds: that sufficed. When I left college, I was sent out to Jamaica, to espouse a bride already courted for me. My father said nothing about her money; but he told me Miss Mason was the boast of Spanish Town for her beauty: and this was no lie. I found her a fine woman, in the style of Blanche Ingram: tall, dark, and majestic. Her family wished to secure me because I was of a good race; and so did she. They showed her to me in parties, splendidly dressed. I seldom saw her alone, and had very little private conversation with her. She flattered me, and lavishly displayed for my pleasure her charms and accomplishments. All the men in her circle seemed to admire her and envy me. I was dazzled, stimulated: my senses were excited; and being ignorant, raw, and inexperienced, I thought I loved her. There is no folly so besotted that the idiotic rivalries of society, the prurience, the rashness, the blindness of youth, will not hurry a man to its commission. Her relatives encouraged me; competitors piqued me; she allured me: a marriage was achieved almost before I knew where I was. Oh, I have no respect for myself when I think of that act! -- an agony of inward contempt masters me. I never loved, I never esteemed, I did not even know her. I was not sure of the existence of one virtue in her nature: I had marked neither modesty, nor benevolence, nor candour, nor refinement in her mind or manners -- and, I married her: - gross, grovelling, mole-eyed blockhead that I was! With less sin I might have -- But let me remember to whom I am speaking."

"My bride's mother I had never seen: I understood she was dead. The honeymoon over, I learned my mistake; she was only mad, and shut up in a lunatic asylum. There was a younger brother, too -- a complete dumb idiot. The elder one, whom you have seen (and whom I cannot hate, whilst I abhor all his kindred, because he has some grains of affection in his feeble mind, shown in the continued interest he takes in his wretched sister, and also in a dog-like attachment he once bore me), will probably be in the same state one day. My father and my brother Rowland knew all this; but they thought only of the thirty thousand pounds, and joined in the plot against me."

"These were vile discoveries; but except for the treachery of concealment, I should have made them no subject of reproach to my wife, even when I found her nature wholly alien to mine, her tastes obnoxious to me, her cast of mind common, low, narrow, and singularly incapable of being led to anything higher, expanded to anything larger -- when I found that I could not pass a single evening, nor even a single hour of the day with her in comfort; that kindly conversation could not be sustained between us, because whatever topic I started, immediately received from her a turn at once coarse and trite, perverse and imbecile -- when I perceived that I should never have a quiet or settled household, because no servant would bear the continued outbreaks of her violent and unreasonable temper, or the vexations of her absurd, contradictory, exacting orders -- even then I restrained myself: I eschewed upbraiding, I curtailed remonstrance; I tried to devour my repentance and disgust in secret; I repressed the deep antipathy I felt.

"Jane, I will not trouble you with abominable details: some strong words shall express what I have to say. I lived with that woman upstairs four years, and before that time she had tried me indeed: her character ripened and developed with frightful rapidity; her vices sprang up fast and rank: they were so strong, only cruelty could check them, and I would not use cruelty. What a pigmy intellect she had, and what giant propensities! How fearful were the curses those propensities entailed on me! Bertha Mason, the true daughter of an infamous mother, dragged me through all the hideous and degrading agonies which must attend a man bound to a wife at once intemperate and unchaste.

"My brother in the interval was dead, and at the end of the four years my father died too. I was rich enough now -- yet poor to hideous indigence: a nature the most gross, impure, depraved I ever saw, was associated with mine, and called by the law and by society a part of me. And I could not rid myself of it by any legal proceedings: for the doctors now discovered that _my wife_ was mad -- her excesses had prematurely developed the germs of insanity. Jane, you don't like my narrative; you look almost sick -- shall I defer the rest to another day?"

"No, sir, finish it now; I pity you -- I do earnestly pity you."

"Pity, Jane, from some people is a noxious and insulting sort of tribute, which one is justified in hurling back in the teeth of those who offer it; but that is the sort of pity native to callous, selfish hearts; it is a hybrid, egotistical pain at hearing of woes, crossed with ignorant contempt for those who have endured them. But that is not your pity, Jane; it is not the feeling of which your whole face is full at this moment -- with which your eyes are now almost overflowing -- with which your heart is heaving -- with which your hand is trembling in mine. Your pity, my darling, is the suffering mother of love: its anguish is the very natal pang of the divine passion. I accept it, Jane; let the daughter have free advent -- my arms wait to receive her."

"Now, sir, proceed; what did you do when you found she was mad?"

"Jane, I approached the verge of despair; a remnant of self-respect was all that intervened between me and the gulf. In the eyes of the world, I was doubtless covered with grimy dishonour; but I resolved to be clean in my own sight -- and to the last I repudiated the contamination of her crimes, and wrenched myself from connection with her mental defects. Still, society associated my name and person with hers; I yet saw her and heard her daily: something of her breath (faugh!) mixed with the air I breathed; and besides, I remembered I had once been her husband -- that recollection was then, and is now, inexpressibly odious to me; moreover, I knew that while she lived I could never be the husband of another and better wife; and, though five years my senior (her family and her father had lied to me even in the particular of her age), she was likely to live as long as I, being as robust in frame as she was infirm in mind. Thus, at the age of twenty-six, I was hopeless.

"One night I had been awakened by her yells -- (since the medical men had pronounced her mad, she had, of course, been shut up) -- it was a fiery West Indian night; one of the description that frequently precede the hurricanes of those climates. Being unable to sleep in bed, I got up and opened the window. The air was like sulphur-steams -- I could find no refreshment anywhere. Mosquitoes came buzzing in and hummed sullenly round the room; the sea, which I could hear from thence, rumbled dull like an earthquake -- black clouds were casting up over it; the moon was setting in the waves, broad and red, like a hot cannon-ball -- she threw her last bloody glance over a world quivering with the ferment of tempest. I was physically influenced by the atmosphere and scene, and my ears were filled with the curses the maniac still shrieked out; wherein she momentarily mingled my name with such a tone of demon-hate, with such language! -- no professed harlot ever had a fouler vocabulary than she: though two rooms off, I heard every word -- the thin partitions of the West India house opposing but slight obstruction to her wolfish cries.

"'This life,' said I at last, 'is hell: this is the air -- those are the sounds of the bottomless pit! I have a right to deliver myself from it if I can. The sufferings of this mortal state will leave me with the heavy flesh that now cumbers my soul. Of the fanatic's burning eternity I have no fear: there is not a future state worse than this present one -- let me break away, and go home to God!'

"I said this whilst I knelt down at, and unlocked a trunk which contained a brace of loaded pistols: I mean to shoot myself. I only entertained the intention for a moment; for, not being insane, the crisis of exquisite and unalloyed despair, which had originated the wish and design of self-destruction, was past in a second.

"A wind fresh from Europe blew over the ocean and rushed through the open casement: the storm broke, streamed, thundered, blazed, and the air grew pure. I then framed and fixed a resolution. While I walked under the dripping orange-trees of my wet garden, and amongst its drenched pomegranates and pine-apples, and while the refulgent dawn of the tropics kindled round me -- I reasoned thus, Jane -- and now listen; for it was true Wisdom that consoled me in that hour, and showed me the right path to follow.

"The sweet wind from Europe was still whispering in the refreshed leaves, and the Atlantic was thundering in glorious liberty; my heart, dried up and scorched for a long time, swelled to the tone, and filled with living blood -- my being longed for renewal -- my soul thirsted for a pure draught. I saw hope revive -- and felt regeneration possible. From a flowery arch at the bottom of my garden I gazed over the sea -- bluer than the sky: the old world was beyond; clear prospects opened thus: --

"'Go,' said Hope, 'and live again in Europe: there it is not known what a sullied name you bear, nor what a filthy burden is bound to you. You may take the maniac with you to England; confine her with due attendance and precautions at Thornfield: then travel yourself to what clime you will, and form what new tie you like. That woman, who has so abused your long-suffering, so sullied your name, so outraged your honour, so blighted your youth, is not your wife, nor are you her husband. See that she is cared for as her condition demands, and you have done all that God and humanity require of you. Let her identity, her connection with yourself, be buried in oblivion: you are bound to impart them to no living being. Place her in safety and comfort: shelter her degradation with secrecy, and leave her.'

"I acted precisely on this suggestion. My father and brother had not made my marriage known to their acquaintance; because, in the very first letter I wrote to apprise them of the union -- having already begun to experience extreme disgust of its consequences, and, from the family character and constitution, seeing a hideous future opening to me -- I added an urgent charge to keep it secret: and very soon the infamous conduct of the wife my father had selected for me was such as to make him blush to own her as his daughter-in-law. Far from desiring to publish the connection, he became as anxious to conceal it as myself.

"To England, then, I conveyed her; a fearful voyage I had with such a monster in the vessel. Glad was I when I at last got her to Thornfield, and saw her safely lodged in that third-storey room, of whose secret inner cabinet she has now for ten years made a wild beast's den -- a goblin's cell. I had some trouble in finding an attendant for her, as it was necessary to select one on whose fidelity dependence could be placed; for her ravings would inevitably betray my secret: besides, she had lucid intervals of days -- sometimes weeks -- which she filled up with abuse of me. At last I hired Grace Poole from the Grimbsy Retreat. She and the surgeon, Carter (who dressed Mason's wounds that night he was stabbed and worried), are the only two I have ever admitted to my confidence. Mrs. Fairfax may indeed have suspected something, but she could have gained no precise knowledge as to facts. Grace has, on the whole, proved a good keeper; though, owing partly to a fault of her own, of which it appears nothing can cure her, and which is incident to her harassing profession, her vigilance has been more than once lulled and baffled.

The lunatic is both cunning and malignant; she has never failed to take advantage of her guardian's temporary lapses; once to secrete the knife with which she stabbed her brother, and twice to possess herself of the key of her cell, and issue therefrom in the night-time. On the first of these occasions, she perpetrated the attempt to burn me in my bed; on the second, she paid that ghastly visit to you. I thank Providence, who watched over you, that she then spent her fury on your wedding apparel, which perhaps brought back vague reminiscences of her own bridal days: but on what might have happened, I cannot endure to reflect. When I think of the thing which flew at my throat this morning, hanging its black and scarlet visage over the nest of my dove, my blood curdles" ----

"And what, sir," I asked, while he paused, "did you do when you had settled her here? Where did you go?"

"What did I do, Jane? I transformed myself into a will-o'-the-wisp. Where did I go? I pursued wanderings as wild as those of the March-spirit. I sought the Continent, and went devious through all its lands. My fixed desire was to seek and find a good and intelligent woman, whom I could love: a contrast to the fury I left at Thornfield -- "

"But you could not marry, sir."

"I had determined and was convinced that I could and ought. It was not my original intention to deceive, as I have deceived you. I meant to tell my tale plainly, and make my proposals openly: and it appeared to me so absolutely rational that I should be considered free to love and be loved, I never doubted some woman might be found willing and able to understand my case and accept me, in spite of the curse with which I was burdened."

"I can tell you whether I found any one I liked, and whether I asked her to marry me: but what she said is yet to be recorded in the book of Fate. For ten long years I roved about, living first in one capital, then another: sometimes in St. Petersburg; oftener in Paris; occasionally in Rome, Naples, and Florence. Provided with plenty of money and the passport of an old name, I could choose my own society: no circles were closed against me.

I sought my ideal of a woman amongst English ladies, French countesses, Italian signoras, and German grafinnen. I could not find her. Sometimes, for a fleeting moment, I thought I caught a glance, heard a tone, beheld a form, which announced the realisation of my dream: but I was presently undeserved. You are not to suppose that I desired perfection, either of mind or person. I longed only for what suited me -- for the antipodes of the Creole: and I longed vainly. Amongst them all I found not one whom, had I been ever so free, I -- warned as I was of the risks, the horrors, the loathings of incongruous unions -- would have asked to marry me. Disappointment made me reckless.

I tried dissipation -- never debauchery: that I hated, and hate. That was my Indian Messalina's attribute: rooted disgust at it and her restrained me much, even in pleasure. Any enjoyment that bordered on riot seemed to approach me to her and her vices, and I eschewed it.

"Yet I could not live alone; so I tried the companionship of mistresses. The first I chose was Céline Varens -- another of those steps which make a man spurn himself when he recalls them. You already know what she was, and how my liaison with her terminated. She had two successors: an Italian, Giacinta, and a German, Clara; both considered singularly handsome.

What was their beauty to me in a few weeks? Giacinta was unprincipled and violent: I tired of her in three months. Clara was honest and quiet; but heavy, mindless, and unimpressible: not one whit to my taste. I was glad to give her a sufficient sum to set her up in a good line of business, and so get decently rid of her. But, Jane, I see by your face you are not forming a very favourable opinion of me just now. You think me an unfeeling, loose-principled rake: don't you?"

"I don't like you so well as I have done sometimes, indeed, sir. Did it not seem to you in the least wrong to live in that way, first with one mistress and then another? You talk of it as a mere matter of course."

"It was with me; and I did not like it. It was a grovelling fashion of existence: I should never like to return to it. Hiring a mistress is the next worse thing to buying a slave: both are often by nature, and always by position, inferior: and to live familiarly with inferiors is degrading. I now hate the recollection of the time I passed with Céline, Giacinta, and Clara."

"Last January, rid of all mistresses -- in a harsh, bitter frame of mind, the result of a useless, roving, lonely life -- corroded with disappointment, sourly disposed against all men, and especially against all _woman _kind (for I began to regard the notion of an intellectual, faithful, loving woman as a mere dream), recalled by business, I came back to England.

"On a frosty winter afternoon, I rode in sight of Thornfield Hall. Abhorred spot! I expected no peace -- no pleasure there. On a stile in Hay Lane I saw a quiet little figure sitting by itself. I passed it as negligently as I did the pollard willow opposite to it: I had no presentiment of what it would be to me; no inward warning that the arbitress of my life -- my genius for good or evil -- waited there in humble guise.

" I did not know it, even when, on the occasion of Mesrour's accident, it came up and gravely offered me help. Childish and slender creature! It seemed as if a linnet had hopped to my foot and proposed to bear me on its tiny wing. I was surly; but the thing would not go: it stood by me with strange perseverance, and looked and spoke with a sort of authority. I must be aided, and by that hand: and aided I was.

"When once I had pressed the frail shoulder, something new -- a fresh sap and sense -- stole into my frame. It was well I had learnt that this elf must return to me -- that it belonged to my house down below -- or I could not have felt it pass away from under my hand, and seen it vanish behind the dim hedge, without singular regret. I heard you come home that night, Jane, though probably you were not aware that I thought of you or watched for you..

"Impatiently I waited for evening, when I might summon you to my presence. An unusual -- to me -- a perfectly new character I suspected was yours: I desired to search it deeper and know it better. You entered the room with a look and air at once shy and independent: you were quaintly dressed -- much as you are now. I made you talk: ere long I found you full of strange contrasts. Your garb and manner were restricted by rule; your air was often diffident, and altogether that of one refined by nature, but absolutely unused to society, and a good deal afraid of making herself disadvantageously conspicuous by some solecism or blunder; yet when addressed, you lifted a keen, a daring, and a glowing eye to your interlocutor's face: there was penetration and power in each glance you gave; when plied by close questions, you found ready and round answers.

Very soon you seemed to get used to me: I believe you felt the existence of sympathy between you and your grim and cross master, Jane; for it was astonishing to see how quickly a certain pleasant ease tranquillised your manner: snarl as I would, you showed no surprise, fear, annoyance, or displeasure at my moroseness; you watched me, and now and then smiled at me with a simple yet sagacious grace I cannot describe. I was at once content and stimulated with what I saw: I liked what I had seen, and wished to see more. Yet, for a long time, I treated you distantly, and sought your company rarely. I was an intellectual epicure, and wished to prolong the gratification of making this novel and piquant acquaintance: besides, I was for a while troubled with a haunting fear that if I handled the flower freely its bloom would fade -- the sweet charm of freshness would leave it. I did not then know that it was no transitory blossom, but rather the radiant resemblance of one, cut in an indestructible gem.

Moreover, I wished to see whether you would seek me if I shunned you -- but you did not; you kept in the schoolroom as still as your own desk and easel; if by chance I met you, you passed me as soon, and with as little token of recognition, as was consistent with respect. Your habitual expression in those days, Jane, was a thoughtful look; not despondent, for you were not sickly; but not buoyant, for you had little hope, and no actual pleasure. I wondered what you thought of me, or if you ever thought of me, and resolved to find this out.

"I resumed my notice of you. There was something glad in your glance, and genial in your manner, when you conversed: I saw you had a social heart; it was the silent schoolroom -- it was the tedium of your life -- that made you mournful. I permitted myself the delight of being kind to you; kindness stirred emotion soon: your face became soft in expression, your tones gentle; I liked my name pronounced by your lips in a grateful happy accent. I used to enjoy a chance meeting with you, Jane, at this time: there was a curious hesitation in your manner: you glanced at me with a slight trouble -- a hovering doubt: you did not know what my caprice might be -- whether I was going to play the master and be stern, or the friend and be benignant. I was now too fond of you often to simulate the first whim; and, when I stretched my hand out cordially, such bloom and light and bliss rose to your young, wistful features, I had much ado often to avoid straining you then and there to my heart.

"You see now how the case stands -- do you not?" he continued. "After a youth and manhood passed half in unutterable misery and half in dreary solitude, I have for the first time found what I can truly love -- I have found _you_. You are my sympathy -- my better self -- my good angel. I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wraps my existence about you, and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one."

I was silent and in deep meditation of the tale, I had just heard. I could feel that he really loved me and knew that I loved him with all my being, the way I could never love anyone else.

"Jane?" he called me back again "say that you will marry me."

"I will" I said and enjoyed the bliss I felt again as he embraced me and kissed me lovingly to which I replied with the same amount of passion."


	14. Madeira, Cheerful Prospects

**Madeira**

She stood there gazing at the tranquil Atlantic as the breeze caressed her. Her feet felt warm among the soft sand and the blue sky resembled her peaceful and clear mind. She closed her eyes and thanked Providence for the sweet bliss she felt, for the family she had found and the family she was making. A small but pleasant smile graced her lips as she thought about that and her hand touch her yet small but swelling belly.

"Jane, there you are! The weather is getting cold, here…" and he put the shawl gently on her shoulders."

"Mr. Eyre warned you about the charms of this beach, did he not?" Edward teased but Jane could feel his worry and that made her even gayer. How she loved his protectiveness of her and the child she was carrying…his child.

"Let's go back inside" she submitted silently to his gentle, guiding hands.

"I was thinking about how events had turned out to work in our favor during the last two months." She finally said.

"Very fine recollections." He remarked for he too felt blessed and tranquil at last after all he had suffered.

"It feels as if it was only yesterday that you brought me here to see my uncle, how hostile he was towards you!" she said tenderly, taking his hand in hers.

"After all he did think I was still deceiving you." Edward answered darkly.

"Well you did prove a very agreeable nephew in law; he is quite fond of you _now_."

"He is a man of the world, very wise; I have to say I like the man myself." Edward chuckled.

"But not ? I can't believe he is actually gone to India, but he is very determined, good and great. I don't understand why you dislike him?"

"I wouldn't if he was a bit like his sisters, but although I acknowledge his goodness and nobility, I can not bring myself to understand his disapproval of our marriage, his coldness towards you, my darling." And he caressed her tighter.

Jane was silent foe sometime. "But Diana and Mary are very amiable and sweet young ladies."

"No doubt, no doubt." Edward murmured.

"I'm glad Uncle John is reconciled with them, they would do him good."

Edward was silent. He was gazing abstractedly at the sea.

"Do you miss England, Edward?" she whispered. He turned his gaze away from the calm blue to smile at her.

"It's strange, Janet, never before when I was away from England, had I missed Thornfield. You know how I abhorred the place! But now the beauty that my memories with you there shed on that place makes me want to see it again. I had forgotten my childhood there; it all seems to be coming back to me, the true charms of life."

"I, too, long for that dear place. I had told you that it seems like a mansion to me and it still does."

"If Diana and Mary are to remain here with your uncle, I'm sure he wouldn't mind us going back, would he?"

"No, but I wish he could come with us. It's a pity his health does not allow traveling."

"But we could always come back Janet, and next time it will be three of us intruding on his hospitality." Edward said with a smile in his voice and Jane was filled with warmth at the reminder.

"Jane, Mr. Rochester, are you coming in for supper?" Mary's kind voice called. And as they were going in she addressed Edward "I thought you were to bring her inside not to remain outside with her." Edward only chuckled in response as they went in to join Diana and Mr. Eyre.

Jane was still smiling at the wonderful prospects life had put in front of her, she thought seeing Mrs. Fairfax again and bringing Adele home. She had not told them yet that she was married to Mr. Rochester, since they had not had any interacts ever since Mr. Rochester and she had departed for Madeira. She meant to surprise them. God had indeed been very kind to her and her dear Edward.

The End

I hope it was not bad. I'm glad it's finally over. Please leave a comment, criticism is most welcome.


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